The Arrangement
by Harikari
Summary: Sick of being bullied, Kurt makes a deal with a desperate Puck. A deal that slowly spirals out of control. Eventual Puck/Kurt.
1. Chapter 1

**The Arrangement  
by Harikari **

**Pairing/Characters: **Eventual Puck/Kurt, Finn, Ensemble  
**Rating:** Mature  
**Warnings:** Eventual slash, violence, strong language, underage boys in a relationship, protective and brotherly Finn, protective Burt, angst, possible fluff, etc.  
**Spoilers:** Takes place after _Preggers_, but contains possible spoilers for elements of the entire first season.  
**AN:** Oops. I sat down to work on finishing up a chapter from one of my WIPs and instead this Glee fic happened. I blame Kurt/Chris. He's too awesome for anyone's good.

**Summary:** Sick of being bullied, Kurt makes a deal with a desperate Puck. A deal that slowly spirals out of control.

**Part One **

Except for Finn, Kurt was the last one out of the locker room. He made his way slowly across the football field and toward the bleachers, yellowing grass crunching underfoot. To his right he could make out the distant forms of Coach Tanaka and their bus driver. The two men were beyond the chain link fence that bordered the field, standing in the large area of the school parking lot designated for buses. The driver was scratching the back of his head. Coach Tanaka was pacing, back and forth, near the front end of the silent and stationary bus. It looked like they were waiting for something. For someone.

_Lovely_, thought Kurt.

That meant there had been zero progress since Coach had informed them all shortly after the game had ended that there was 'something wrong with the damn bus, so call your parents and tell them you'll be back in Lima a little later than expected'.

He reached the bleachers. The McKinley High football team (minus the players whose parents and other rides home had been at the game) was sprawled all along the steel seats. Most of them were sitting in groups of twos or threes, laughing raucously at some undoubtedly crude joke or talking excitedly about the game and their victory. Kurt eyed them all for a long moment before quickly but carefully marching up to the very top of the structure.

A sour looking Noah "Puck" Puckerman was sitting in the center of the middle row of bleachers, one level down from the top. Kurt took a seat in the top row. Just a little above and to the right of Puck. He heard the larger football player let out an annoyed sounding huff as he made himself as comfortable as possible on the metal bench seat. He ignored it, pulled his water bottle from his gym bag's convenient little mesh side pouch and took a sip.

Football. He could hardly believe he was on the _football_ team. After confessing to the man that he was gay, he had been assured by his father that he didn't need to stay on the team if he didn't like it. However, Kurt had been reluctant to leave the entire team just _hanging_ like that. The kicker he had replaced, the one who had been demoted to water boy, had ended up quitting the team altogether. This would leave McKinley High without a kicker, at least until another tryout was held and a decent replacement could be found, if he just up and quit.

So, sure that it was best for everyone concerned (after that first win the team had taken to ignoring him outside of practice; the soprano had no doubt abandoning them would mean going back to sneak slushie attacks in the school hallways and getting thrown into a dumpster daily, maybe more than just once daily if they were out for revenge) Kurt had informed Coach Tanaka that he would stay on the team only until another kicker could be found. Although...after a handful of practices and now another victorious game Kurt had a sneaking suspicion that Tanaka wasn't actually looking as hard as he could be for a new player.

Kurt put his water away and pulled his cell out of his pocket. Noticed Finn had emerged from the locker room - the home team had been kind enough to grant them use of the girl's locker room - looking scrubbed and no longer dressed in his gear and was halfway across the field. He couldn't help a small smile as he began to text his dad._ Problem with the bus_, he typed. _Will be a little late_. He pressed the send button just as a large shadow appeared, sliding over him like a dark cloud that blocked the intense shine of the setting sun.

_Finn_, thought Kurt. But he realized even as he began to look up that it couldn't be Finn. Not unless Finn had sprinted across the field and up the bleachers at an almost impossible speed while he had been busy texting.

And...no. It wasn't the slightly ignorant but generally good hearted football player. It was number twelve from the opposing team. From the team they had just beaten, from the very high school they were now stuck at.

Kurt recognized number twelve because the guy had been trouble the entire game. Shouting, spitting unnecessary insults at people, tackling just a little too roughly... Number twelve, Hernandez according to his jersey if the soprano remembered correctly, was a flat out asshole.

"Wha-" started Kurt, but he was promptly interrupted.

"Well if it isn't the little fairy that scored the winning point," said Hernandez. He was smiling, but it definitely wasn't a happy or friendly smile. He looked angry. Predatory even. His dark eyes were narrowed and he was breathing hard.

_Fairy_. Well. He had been called worse. He could handle fairy. Still...he wondered why the buffoon was targeting him, calling him a fairy in the first place (besides the obvious fact that the teenager was an ass). Was it because he had scored the winning point? Because he was an easy target? Did he give off some vibe? Because he hadn't even done the whole Beyonce dance thing this time when he had kicked, and he was wearing a rather simple outfit that consisted of black skinny jeans and a t-shirt. Granted, the jeans were designer and quite obviously expensive but-

"Hey, _fag_!" shouted Hernandez and then the guy shoved him. Actually bent to _shove_ hard at his shoulder. Kurt let out a little gasp he couldn't help at the unexpected move, his phone flew from his hand and landed underneath his seat with a discouraging clatter. "Are you listening to me, you little _fag_?" Almost without thought, the soprano shot up. Glared.

Number twelve was a lot broader than him. And taller. Not as tall as Finn or even Puck but still taller. And at the moment he just didn't _care_. This wasn't some jock or random joker from McKinley High. From Lima. This wasn't someone who he had grown up with, someone he had grown accustomed to shouldering him into lockers or picking him up and swinging him into trash bins. This was someone he didn't even _know_. Some jerk who thought he could go around shoving people and calling them hurtful names just because he was angry about losing a stupid game.

"Don't touch me," said Kurt. It came out calm. A little quiet but firm.

Hernandez didn't react at first. Just stared. The rest of the team was standing now. Finn was hurrying up the wide bleacher steps and Puck was still a level down but had moved closer. Was now directly below Kurt and the asshole from the other team.

"Hey, no talent!" shouted Puck and Kurt was a little surprised at that. That the player would interfere. Maybe it was a team spirit thing. Maybe the rest of the team didn't want McKinley High to be made a fool of. That was probably it. "What the hell do you think you're doing? Don't have the balls to take on someone your own size, or what?"

Hernandez didn't even seem to hear the other teenager. Kurt could see a strange intensity in the guy's eyes, felt a wave of relief rush over him when he saw that Finn had finally reached them. The quarterback was reaching out for the oblivious opposing player's shoulder when, suddenly, Hernandez _moved_.

Hernandez shot forward. Gripped Kurt's shoulders with strong fingers and just _threw_ him. Kurt flew sideways, lost his footing and went airborne and went down. _Hard_. His left shoulder slammed against concrete and he cried out, felt himself start to roll-

"Whoa!" Puck's voice. Dazed, Kurt felt it as a large hand wrapped tightly around his arm, as another gripped his hip and pulled him firmly to stop. "What the_ fuck_, man?" And that sounded angry. Really angry. It took a moment for the soprano to realize it wasn't directed at him.

Kurt blinked. Inhaled deeply and took in his surroundings. He was on concrete, Puck kneeling beside him. He had been thrown from the top level. Had apparently missed hitting the bleachers that had been directly below him altogether and had landed on the concrete. He would've rolled farther, over the edge of another set of metal seats and onto more concrete, if he hadn't been caught.

_Jesus._

He shifted. But Puck squeezed his arm in what seemed to be protest so Kurt settled for turning only a little, looking up. Finn looked furious. His face was red and he was breathing hard, his chest moving in and out and in and out. He had Hernandez's shirt bunched in his fists. His grip must have been strong; Hernandez was practically on his tiptoes, eyes wide and terrified looking and blood leaking from his nose.

Kurt shook his head. Blood leaking from his nose? He must have missed something. Had Finn...punched the other teenager?

"You could have killed him!" yelled Finn. "He could have kept going or hit his head or something. He..." He trailed off. Shook Hernandez and flashed his teeth in an angry grimace. It was as if he wanted to do _something_ to the teenager he was holding but couldn't wrap his mind around what.

"I'm sorry," whined Hernandez. He saw Kurt was looking and zeroed in on him. "You. I'm sorry. I didn't... I wasn't thinking. I didn't want to push you down the bleachers or anything, I just-"

"Oh, fuck _you_. That's bullshit." Puck again. He was still crouching next to Kurt, had let go of his hip almost as soon as he had grabbed for it but still had a firm hold on his arm.

"No!" shouted Hernandez. "I'm serious. I'm telling the truth." And the soprano was surprised to see that the guy looked genuinely sorry. Looked afraid and remorseful. And he wasn't fighting Finn at all, just hanging there in his grip.

"You could have killed him," repeated Finn, like he thought everything number twelve from the other team had just said didn't matter. Didn't make a difference. At all.

"What the hell is going on here?"

Coach Tanaka. He was standing next to the bleachers, frowning and glaring up at them. His eyes swept over Hernandez' bloody nose and the angry Finn, then landed on Kurt and stuck there. He started up the steps. "Hummel-"

"I'm fine," piped up Kurt before the man could get very far. He moved to get up and this time Puck allowed it. The larger football player stood and then planted himself nearby as Kurt pushed himself to all fours and then to his feet. "I just..." He trailed off. There was dirt and grit embedded in his palms. He made a face as he wiped them off on his jeans.

His poor jeans.

He didn't know what to say. What do do. On one hand he didn't want to do nothing. Didn't want to brush it off. His attacker could have seriously injured him, after all. But on the other hand there was the scared and guilty look on Hernandez's face, the worried and pained look that would be on _his father's _face if the man ever found out about the incident.

Kurt's left shoulder was throbbing. Stinging. He gripped it with his right hand. "Fell," he said lamely. And as soon as the word was out of his mouth both Finn and Puck shot him sharp looks that ever so clearly screamed _what the fuck_. He ignored them and went on, hoping they wouldn't say anything. Hoping the rest of the team wouldn't say anything. "I tripped." He nodded in Hernandez's general direction. "We both...tripped."

For a moment there was silence. Then Hernandez was nodding enthusiastically and agreeing with him and elaborating. They had just been brushing by each other, he insisted. It was all an accident.

Standing on the second step up from ground level, Coach Tanaka looked at them all like he knew they were full of shit. Looked at Kurt. "Tripped. Are you sure, Hummel? You okay?"

The soprano nodded. "I'm sure. I'm okay. Just...my shoulder hurts a little bit."

Slowly, the man nodded. "Fine. Go ahead to the locker room and check it out. I'll try and round up some ice for you. And you!" He was glaring at number twelve now. "You get out of here. What the hell were you thinking coming around with my team sitting here?"

Hernandez swiped a hand under his nose (the bleeding seemed to have stopped already) before wrenching away from Finn and rushing down the wide steps. He shot a last, strange look at Kurt before touching ground and disappearing around a corner.

The soprano made his way carefully downward. It took until he had reached the grass and was crunching across it once more, still holding his arm and heading back to the locker room, for him to realize both Noah Puckerman and Finn Hudson were following him.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Thanks everyone for the all the comments/reviews so far! They are much appreciated.

**Part Two **

"What was that about?"

Finn's question echoed and bounced around the spacious locker room. They were all three of them crowded around the counter with the inset sinks against the far wall, around the huge mirror that hung above the counter. Kurt was bent over one sink, hands grasping its edge and face dripping wet with cold water.

"Kurt?"

He had washed his face hoping it would help calm his nerves. Hoping it would give him a chance to catch his breath and to bring the minute shaking of his hands under control. "I'm okay," he finally answered. "It's not a big deal."

"Not a big _deal_?" That was Puck. _Puck_. Kurt couldn't wrap his head around why the teenager with the questionable hairstyle had followed him back into the locker room in the first place, never mind why he was offering his input.

"I think I just...scraped it or something," he insisted. Then he headed for the paper towels, pulled one from the dispenser and dabbed his face dry.

"Let's see it then." Finn. The quarterback still looked furious. He gestured at Kurt. "Your shoulder. Coach said check it out. So check it out. See if it's bad."

The soprano launched the now crumpled up paper towel into the trash and thought about protesting. About telling the two teenagers in front of him to get out and leave him alone. That with all the bullying they had done in the past they were almost as bad as that Hernandez kid themselves. But...

He couldn't. He couldn't bring himself to argue and spew insults. Not with Finn standing there, looking enraged on Kurt's behalf and rubbing absently at the fist he had punched Hernandez in the face with.

Kurt looked at Puck, then Finn again. They weren't budging. Which meant he was going to have an audience for this whether he liked it or not.

Relenting, he grabbed the bottom edge of his shirt. Pulled it up and off. He couldn't help the warm blush that spread from his face all the way down to his neck and shoulders. Because. Yeah. Standing half naked in front of two attentive football players, one his biggest crush and the other undeniably hot (a hot _jerk_...but still) was embarrassing. He swung his t-shirt so it hung over his good shoulder, held his injured arm with his free hand and twisted his neck at an awkward angle in an attempt to see the damage.

His shoulder was scraped. Pretty badly. In some places so deep it had bled a little.

_Probably onto my shirt_, thought Kurt. And he frowned. Had started running through stain removal techniques in his head when both Finn and Puck bent closer for a look.

"It looks... really red." Finn.

"Thank you, stater of the obvious," quipped Puck. That earned him a glare from Finn. "It looks like it's going to bruise. Like, a _bad_ bruise."

Kurt pursed his lips and nodded. He hated the thought of an ugly bruise marring his skin, but it could have been worse. At least a bruise would fade. At least he hadn't broken anything or split his head open or...something.

"Yeah," came Coach Tanaka's gravelly voice and both Finn and Puck jumped back from Kurt like they had been burned. Puzzled, Kurt eyed them both for a few seconds. Turned away when Coach continued. "You'll live. You'll be _sore and bruised_ for a little while, but you'll live. Here."

The man was holding a Ziploc bag filled with cubes of ice out in offering. "Thanks," said Kurt before taking it. He placed the bag next to the sink he had been using for safe keeping, pulled his shirt back on.

"The bus guy...the mechanic is here. He says it's an easy fix. We'll be leaving in about fifteen minutes so have your shit together. Let me know if you need more ice before we leave, Hummel." Coach Tanaka nodded decisively. Gave Kurt one last look over as if to assure himself one of his charges wasn't going to keel over anytime soon, then turned and left the locker room.

"You good?" asked Finn as Kurt picked up the bag of ice, pulled up his sleeve a little and then pressed it to his shoulder. "I mean. You're sure you're okay?"

The towering football player still looked anxious. Still looked worried and a little angry. Kurt managed a smile. Because getting pushed around by some random jerk from another school wasn't any fun. But the heroic and hovering figure of his secret love interest that had unexpectedly resulted from it kind of _was_. "Like I said. It's not a big deal. Thanks, though." The words felt strange as he said them. "Both of you. For...helping me out."

Finn smiled back. The smile didn't reach his eyes.

Puck snorted. Mumbled something under his breath - something about _'not a big deal' _and_ 'bullshit' _- before turning and heading for the exit.

Kurt glanced at himself in the mirror, took a deep breath and then trailed after him.

* * *

"That's disgusting." Mercedes frowned. Squinted her eyes as she examined the offending splotch of color. "That looks really bad, Kurt. And it's only gonna' get _worse_ as it heals." She shook her head once in a dismissive or possibly disappointed manner before turning back to her lunch tray. Shoveled up a spoonful of tuna surprise and popped it into her mouth.

Kurt tugged at his sleeve so it fell back into place, covered his bruised shoulder. "Thank you," he started in what he thought of as his best bitch voice. "That made me feel a whole lot better. I knew there was a reason we're best friends. It's like-" He caught sight of his friend's piercing stare and his mouth snapped shut.

He grabbed for his can of diet soda. Took a sip.

"I _told_ you to quit the team, didn't I? After you told your dad..._that_. I told you I thought you should quit the team. That you might get hurt and you didn't really like it anyway and it wasn't a good idea to stay on any longer."

"Yes. You did. I know." His reply came out sounding meek.

Mercedes was right, of course. She had encouraged him to quit the football team. And she had every reason to be irked at his tone. Because he hadn't told her that the injury was actually the result of being shoved down some bleachers by a neanderthal. That it wasn't technically a sports related accident. He wasn't _going_ to tell her.

So she thought her _I told you so _attitude was completely justified. That his cattiness and his bid for more sympathy were uncalled for because he had been hurt doing something she had heatedly advised him against.

Kurt thumbed at the soda can's pop top. "You know," he said. "Your outfit today is fabulous." It was. He had been meaning to tell her since before the first bell but was glad he had saved it until now. It was the perfect peace offering.

Slowly, Mercedes broke into a smile. "Boy..." She trailed off. Laughed a surprised sounding laugh. "What were you guys doing at a game yesterday, anyway? I thought high school football games all took place on Friday nights. Not late Thursday afternoons."

"Not always," came a deep voice. It was Puck. He slid into the vacant seat next to Kurt, ran a hand over his head as if to smooth down his mohawk. "There are always a few games on Thursdays. Which is _awesome_ because those are the games we get pulled out of our last few classes for." He paused. Shot a pointed look at Mercedes across the table, another at Kurt. "Not that you two would know anything about awesome."

"What do you want, Puck?" Mercedes was glaring at the intruding teenager. "Is this about glee club? Or have your jock friends finally come to their senses and forced you out of their clique?"

"Mercedes. Hello. Charming as always, I see." The football player flashed his teeth at them in a parody of a friendly grin. Glanced away from the table for a second and then did a double take.

Curious, Kurt followed his gaze. Cheerleaders. The guy was checking out cheerleaders. Quinn Fabray and a few of her minions were standing in a huddle next to the gaping double doors that led out to the hallway, giggling and whispering to each other.

Still distracted, Puck shifted a little. Bumped shoulders with Kurt. Kurt frowned, shot the taller football player a disapproving look that went unnoticed and scooted farther over in his seat.

"Kurt. What are you doing Saturday?" Mercedes. Apparently she had decided to ignore Noah Puckerman's hulking presence. "I'm taking my little cousin to the mall. She wants to see one of those 3-D movies. We could go shopping afterwards if you want to come with."

"I can't. My dad's shop got a lot of work in this week. And the mechanic that worked for him for years quit a few weeks ago." Kurt shrugged. "So. I promised my dad I would go with him this weekend to the garage. Help him out."

"That sucks," said Mercedes.

And then, "Hummel._ Your _dad is a mechanic? He owns a place?" Puck seemed only vaguely interested in the questions he had asked. He was still looking at the group of uniformed girls.

"Really," said Kurt. And his slightly sharp tone finally seemed to snap the other boy out of his Cheerios induced daze. "Why _are_ you here, Puck?"

Puck stared at him for a second. He seemed a little out of it. Had an expression on his face like someone had knocked the wind out of him. Then he blinked, shook his head as if to clear it and reached into his letterman jacket's left pocket.

_Oh_, thought Kurt. Pleased and more than a little shocked as soon as he spotted the object in Puck's hand.

"Here's your phone, princess." Puck placed the phone on the table and slid it over to Kurt before turning toward the cluster of cheerleaders again (they were still engrossed in conversation but had moved out into the hallway).

Then the football player stood up. Reached over and casually pulled Kurt's plaid newsboy hat down over his forehead and eyes.

"Catch you geeks later," said Puck and walked away while the soprano was still sputtering.

Kurt pulled the hat completely off his head. "My hair. And my _hat_. This hat matches my slacks." He inspected his hat for damage, looked up when he realized Mercedes had said nothing in response to his complaints.

She was staring at Kurt's phone. A moment beat by. She looked up and met his eyes. But Kurt didn't volunteer information. Mercedes leaned back in her seat.

"I'm going to have to comb my hair again, get my hair stuff from my locker. I'll be crazy the rest of the day if I don't." He pulled the hat back onto his head, fussed with it a little and stood. Then he stuffed his phone into his pocket (he was still bemused about Puck having retrieved his phone the day before after he had dropped it, would dwell on that strange thought later when he wasn't in such a hurry). Grabbed the empty soda can and shrugged his leather satchel's strap onto his uninjured shoulder. "See you in English?"

Mercedes was poking at the remainder of her tuna surprise with her fork. "Meet you there," she agreed. She said it nicely enough. Normally enough. She even smiled. But Kurt thought he detected a suspicious note in her voice. A strange glint in her eye. He hoped he was wrong because he really didn't want to tell her about Hernandez.

His friend would only insist he should have done something about it. Would tell him he should have told Coach Tanaka and his father all about the incident. She would be angry and upset in that worried friend way that he hadn't.

He waved, tossed the can into a nearby trash can and made his way across the cafeteria. As soon as he stepped out into the hallway he spotted Puck and Quinn next to a water fountain. Puck was saying something in a low but urgent voice and Quinn wasn't meeting his eyes. She looked furious and sad all at the same time.

Kurt bypassed the pair. Turned a corner and-

_BAM_. A shoulder caught him in the chest and slammed him into the edge of a locker. Slammed his already sore and bruised _shoulder_ into the edge of a locker. He barely managed to keep himself from crying out in pain (he was sure that would only invite more bullying), bit at his bottom lip and closed his eyes for a second. Opened them again and breathed deeply.

When he spun to see who had done it he caught sight of a tall figure wearing a midnight blue hoodie. The figure was pushing its way hastily through the crowded hallway. But...Kurt wasn't sure if the mystery figure had done it. Hadn't actually seen the culprit. The soprano took in his surroundings; there were a few jocks loitering nearby but none of them looked particularly pleased with themselves. None of them were guffawing or gloating.

Kurt pushed away from the lockers he had landed against. Walked quickly to his own locker. His hand automatically went for the lock. He was already running through the combination in his head when he noticed it. Stopped cold.

"Whoa. What happened to your locker, man?" Finn had come up behind him.

"I..." Kurt trailed off. The bottom edge of the smallish locker door was bent upward. Not bad but noticeable. It was as if someone had taken a screw driver or something like a screwdriver and forced it between the seems of the door. As if someone had tried to pop the thin metal door off with_ force_. And the lock...was scratched up. Thin, crisscrossing lines were gouged into the metal and plastic of the little lock.

"What happened?" Finn again. The taller teenager had moved closer, probably for a better look at the damaged locker.

"I don't know," admitted the soprano.

"Looks like someone tried to screw it up."

_No. Looks like someone tried to break in, _thought Kurt.

The warning bell rang out and Kurt groaned, let go of the little combination lock. So much for fixing his hair before class.

That Puck. He was such a jerk.


	3. Chapter 3

**Part Three **

Puck was sprawled on the couch in the living room. He could hear his mother humming and running water and making cooking noises in the kitchen. His little sister was in the living room with him, sitting pretzel style on the plush recliner and giggling every now and then at the antics of Hannah Montana. Puck stared at the television and considered changing the channel; decided finding a slightly less crappy Saturday morning rerun to watch wouldn't be worth one of his sister's tantrums.

As Hannah and friends went to commercial his phone rang. He dived for it, snatched it up from the coffee table and checked the glowing screen. He barely managed to suppress a groan when he saw that it was Finn.

_Son of a bitch. _He had been hoping for a call from one of the burger joints or restaurants he had applied to, maybe even a call from Quinn. Quinn...he wasn't even sure what he wanted to hear the girl say. That she had had a change of heart? That she wanted him to help her out and to be a part of the baby's life after all? Or possibly that she had suffered from temporary amnesia concerning the whole sex thing and Finn actually was the father?

"What's up, man?"

"Hey Puck. It's Finn."

_No shit._ "Um...yeah?"

"Do you want to hang out? We can catch that new spy movie or something."

His baby sister was suddenly aiming a fierce glare his way, apparently he was being too loud. He glared back but stood and moved out to the porch, shut the front door firmly behind him before she could work up a whine.

"Sorry, dude. No can do today." He rejected the invitation without hesitation. There were so many good reasons not to go to a movie with Finn. Reasons like he had to save and scrape together as much money as possible for Quinn and the baby. Like he was the _actual_ father of Quinn's kid-to-be and both he and the Cheerio knew it and hadn't told the quarterback, weren't planning on telling him anytime soon.

"Oh." Finn sounded disappointed and it made Puck tense up, just a little bit. "I just thought..." he trailed off and was quiet for a minute. "It doesn't have to be a movie, man." He got quiet again and Puck realized that Finn's phone call wasn't about his best friend being bored or about a desire to waste a Saturday watching a movie featuring some very hot chicks and lots of explosions. No, Finn was calling because he wanted to _talk_ to Puck. And that made sense. Because Finn had dropped the pregnant Quinn bombshell on him a little over three weeks ago now and Puck hadn't so much as grunted an encouraging word about the situation in his friend's direction.

"Okay," he agreed and even before the word was out of his mouth the tension he was feeling eased. "Yeah, dude. How about we meet at Breadsticks for lunch?"

* * *

The pizza at Breadsticks was awesome. Puck had ordered three slices. He picked up one of the huge slices and took a healthy sized bite as he waited for Finn to stop fiddling with his large glass of soda and straw and say something already.

"So," Finn finally ventured just as Puck finished off his first slice. "Did you see Kurt's locker yesterday? That was pretty messed up."

Puck blinked. Was his best friend seriously trying to have a conversation about Kurt Hummel with him? He reached for his own glass and took a drink, reasoned that Finn was probably nervous. The guy was likely trying to break the silence with a random topic, was maybe trying to work up to discussing the Quinn drama. Puck shrugged and placed his glass back on the table. "No," he said shortly. And then realizing he wasn't exactly looking forward to the Quinn conversation asked, "Did someone write on it again or something?" That was no big surprise. He knew the more cruel jocks sometimes scrawled words like QUEER or FAG or worse across the face of Hummel's locker.

Finn shook his head. "No. It was like...bent. And his lock was all scratched up."

Puck just nodded. Because honestly, what was he supposed to say to that? He had played a big part in bullying Hummel before joining glee club and he was only holding back snide comments now because he could clearly remember that dick from Thursday shoving the kid down the bleachers. Shoving the kid _down the bleachers_. The memory made him feel sort of sick. He had certainly never been friendly with the little gay and had only recently started being (mostly) civil to him but there was a _line_ when it came to that shit.

Their waitress abruptly appeared. She topped off their drinks before vanishing again and things got quiet while Finn tore into his pasta.

"I've been trying to get a job," Puck admitted after swallowing his last bite of pizza. If Finn wasn't going to use this time to bitch and moan about his teenage father crisis like he was _supposed_ to than Puck would use it to covertly bitch and moan about his own teenage father crisis.

Finn let go of his fork and leaned back in his seat. He seemed surprised. "A...job? Don't you already kind of have one? What happened to cleaning pools?"

Puck shrugged. "Business is crap when it isn't warm outside. I need something else." He was also kind of tired of dealing with the cougars and their drama, not that he would ever admit that to Finn. Dealing with desperate questions like '_how old do I_ look, _Puck?'_ or being forced to jump out of windows with his shirt still only half on because a husband had arrived home unexpectedly early got old fast.

Finn frowned, then nodded. "Yeah. I should probably start looking for something, too. Quinn has already mentioned it and..." He trailed off, combed large fingers through his hair. "Having a baby is probably going to cost a lot of money, right? Like a _lot_."

Puck didn't reply.

"It sucks," continued Finn. "I mean, look at Kurt."

Puzzled, Puck squinted at his friend. How exactly were they back to talking about the little gay?

"His dad owns that tire and lube place..._he_ doesn't have to worry about getting a job. It's too bad we don't know anybody who owns a business or something. That makes it so much easier, dude."

Slowly, Puck reached for his Dr. Pepper again. "Yeah," he agreed before moving in to take a drink. "Too bad."

* * *

Puck knew that his idea wasn't a great idea. That it was in fact a pretty bad idea. But that didn't really matter because he had Quinn to think about. No, he had the _baby Quinn was now carrying_ to think about. And as hard as it was to swallow that baby was way more important than any of his own feelings, was more important than even the hit his pride might take if his idea didn't work out.

He confronted Kurt after school on Monday. The kicker was with the goth chick (Tina, if he was remembering right) when Puck spotted him. The girl had the door to her locker open and was rifling through it while Kurt hovered near her shoulder looking bored.

"I don't know," she was saying as Puck approached the pair. "I liked her older songs a lot but-"

"Hummel," broke in Puck and both Tina and Kurt turned to look at him. Tina with her mouth slightly open in what was probably surprise and Kurt with a frown. "I need to talk to you."

Tina's mouth snapped shut and she spun to stare at her friend.

"About what?" asked the kicker after what seemed like a long and awkward moment to Puck.

"Alone," he clarified. He shot a look at the still flummoxed looking Tina.

The girl hesitated, slammed her locker door closed and shrugged her backpack on. "Uh. I don't..." She went quiet and stared at Kurt.

"You go ahead," he said and handed her a ring of keys. "Let yourself in. I'll catch up."

Tina gave Puck a lingering look he couldn't read before hurrying away. Her boots made a heavy _smack smack_ noise as she made the brief trek down the hallway. She pushed open the double doors that led out to the student parking lot and vanished from sight.

"What is it?" asked Kurt as soon as she was gone. "What do you want?"

Puck opened his mouth, then found he couldn't bring himself to speak and closed it again. He ran a hand over his mohawk and cleared his throat.

_You're freaking Puck_, he reminded himself. _You're a first class badass with_ amazing _guns. You're doing this for the baby and...if the kid laughs in your face you can always go back to tossing him in the dumpster._

"Okay, Hummel," he managed. "I know this is going to sound pretty crazy but just hear me out." He paused and took in the little gay's reaction; the teenager had his arms crossed over his chest and his lips pursed tight like he was trying to avoid saying something.

"Your dad," Puck went on. And that got the kicker's attention. He straightened his back and glared at Puck. "He owns a tire and lube place, right?"

Kurt eyed him for a moment before giving a short, sharp nod. "Yes."

Puck went on before the kicker could say anything else, before he could ask a question. "And he needs help there, right? I heard you mention that he needed someone at lunch last week and I've been looking for something part time-"

"You're _kidding_," spat Kurt, cutting him off and he certainly wasn't laughing in Puck's face. He looked fucking livid. "Tell me you're kidding, Puck. Tell me that you are not seriously asking me to get you a job at my dad's garage."

Puck had his response on the tip of his tongue when one of the doors that led to the parking lot came open with a loud _bang_ and Tina charged through, breathing hard and looking panicked. "K-Kurt!" she shouted as soon as she spotted them. But before she could get anything else out Dave Karofsky loomed up behind her, holding the same door the girl had entered through open with a gigantic hand. His face was flushed and his ears were bright red. He looked excited.

Immediately, Puck tensed and shot hurried looks between Tina and Karofsky. Because if his douche of a teammate was actually chasing the girl down he was _dead_. Bullying a chick was up there with pushing someone down a bunch of bleachers and was definitely on Puck's list of shit that crossed the line.

It took him a few seconds to realize that Karofsky was just hovering in the doorway and that Tina hadn't continued to sprint away from him. Instead, she was hurrying over to Kurt and linking an arm with the soprano and talking way too fast to be normal.

"...and so I shouted and the guy went running. I guess Karofsky...er... I guess Dave h-heard me or maybe he heard the glass smashing and he saw the guy run away, too. I'm _so sorry_, Kurt. It looks terrible. Do you think we should call the police because you have w-witnesses and maybe..." She went on as she tugged the kicker down the hallway and toward the doors with her.

Feeling more than a little confused Puck followed them. Still gripping the door a stunned looking Karofsky stepped aside to let the two shorter teenagers through. He let out a bark of a laugh that sounded more surprised than filled with humor when Puck reached the exit.

"Dude," he started and fell in next to Puck as they all four started across the parking lot. "I'm no fan of the Fairy's or anything but that shit was messed up!" The large teenager let out another of those strange laughs and shook his head.

"What shit, exactly?" asked Puck.

"Didn't you hear the goth chick, man? The guy had a fucking bat and everything."

Puck was about to ask for clarification when they all four came to a sudden stop next to Kurt's Lincoln Navigator.

Puck really liked the Navigator. Even the jocks fond of damaging Hummel's property (Karofsky to name one) thought the Navigator was a sweet ride and left it the hell alone.

Or had left it alone. Past tense because someone had viciously keyed the entire left side of the vehicle (nonsensical, crisscrossing lines now flawed the sleek paint job) and had shattered the left side view mirror.

Tina said, "I was almost to y-your truck and then I saw this guy just gouging into the paint with a key! I shouted at him to stop - maybe I shouldn't have because the guy was obviously crazy and it turns out he had a _bat_ - and Karofsky came over and the guy turned around and smashed your mirror! Then he ran off. I'm so sorry, Kurt. Maybe...maybe if I hadn't-"

"Don't," ordered Kurt. His arm was still linked with the girl's. "It is not your fault my mirror got smashed, Tina. If the guy had a bat he was obviously planning to do much worse than this."

Tina stepped away and started to walk a slow circle around the truck. Karofsky followed her example, mumbling under his breath. The large jock didn't appear to be bothered by or even aware of the fact that he was surrounded by three members of the glee club. He seemed mesmerized by the damage to the Navigator.

Puck found himself next to Kurt. "This...this really sucks," he said. When the soprano said nothing to that he went on. "I'll make you a deal," he hissed out so that the two teenagers perusing the damage to the Navigator wouldn't hear. "You get me a job at your dad's garage and I play your body guard for a...month. My reputation is crap with glee club, anyway. I hang around with you and shit like this will cut way down. And maybe a few people will be intimidated enough when my time is up and they'll leave you alone for good."

Puck managed to surprise even himself with that little speech. That morning his plan had simply been to ask Kurt to get him a job at Hummel's Tire and Lube. Had been to use the fact that he had practically saved the kid's life by not letting him roll further down the bleachers last week and the fact that he had returned the princess's forgotten cell phone as leverage.

This plan...this was different and promised to be a lot more time consuming. It was also, already, making him feel guilty. Because something really fucked up had just happened to Kurt and he was exploiting it.

_Screw it,_ thought Puck. _Hummel's fine. I have to think of my future kid._

"Tina," said Kurt without bothering to even bat an eyelash at Puck. "Let's get going, shall we? I know we're supposed to go over that sheet music but...is it okay if I take you straight home? My dad is going to freak out when he sees this and I'm not sure when or if I'll be allowed to drive again."

Tina nodded. She pulled the ring of keys Kurt had handed her earlier from her pocket and opened the passenger side door. She slid into the Navigator and pressed the button that popped the rest of the locks. Kurt navigated around the broken glass and opened the scratched front door.

"Kurt-" started Puck and he reached out but Kurt cut him off yet again and dodged his touch.

"I am not getting you a job at my dad's garage and I am certainly not making some completely idiotic deal with you, Puck. For one thing the jocks haven't been bothering me as much now that I'm kicker. I haven't been slushied in weeks and no one at school has ever bothered my baby before so this is something...different. For another you hate me, you've done countless horrible things to me over the years and for all I know you could have something to do with _this._"

Tina handed him the keys once he had snapped the driver side door closed and he started the engine, quickly backed up the hulking vehicle and drove away before Puck could snap out the _'fuck you then, Hummel'_ waiting in his throat.

"Can you believe it?" Karofsky was suddenly at his side again.

Puck rolled his hands into fists at his side. _He_ had just asked _Kurt Hummel_ for a favor. He had offered Kurt a deal and had been turned down flat. He had practically been lectured at by McKinley's resident gay and he himself had invited it all to happen.

"No, man" answered Puck. "No I can't."


End file.
